


Firsts

by Cumquatmarmalade



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumquatmarmalade/pseuds/Cumquatmarmalade
Summary: “He was brought in at about eight tonight. He had been stabbed. The first blow was to his forearm, like so.” Doctor Bandini raised his arm as if to protect his face then indicated a long gash with the other hand. “It was a long, glancing blow. Not too deep. How you say? To defend?”“A defensive wound,” Phryne completed. The first blow…there were others then. She was feeling sick, the room closing in around her.





	Firsts

Phryne Fisher pushed open the doors to the hospital in a flurry of blue and silver; feathered hat, scarf billowing, and anxiety etched upon her usually beautiful features.

“Where is he?” she demanded of the nurse.

The matronly lady looked back blankly. “Non capisco.”

“Jack. Jack Robinson. Where is he?” she demanded again, her tone anguished.

The nurse shook her head as Phryne made a growl of frustration and threw her hands up in the air. The nurse scurried away, cursing ‘the English’ as she went.

Just then a rather handsome man in a long white coat appeared.

“I speak English,” he said, in a thick Italian accent.

Phryne turned to him at once. “I believe a man was brought here tonight. An Englishman. Australian. His name is Jack Robinson and I need to know if he’s alright.”

“He was brought here, si,” the man said. “Follow me. We can talk more privately in my office.”

Phryne felt her stomach drop. A private conversation always boded ill. She needed him to be alright. There was so much still to be said. So much for them to experience.

The man introduced himself as Doctor Bandini and indicated she should take a seat in his sparse but warmly furnished office.

Phryne removed her feathered cloche and smoothed her hair with slightly trembling hand. The doctor sat on the edge of his desk, near her. The familiarity of the situation made her heart clench and ache.

“Please,” Phryne managed, unable to complete the sentence, unwilling to complete her thought, _‘please tell me he’s not dead.’_

“He was brought in at about eight tonight. He had been stabbed. The first blow was to his forearm, like so.” Doctor Bandini raised his arm as if to protect his face then indicated a long gash with the other hand. “It was a long, glancing blow. Not too deep. How you say? To defend?”

“A defensive wound,” Phryne completed. The first blow…there were others then. She was feeling sick, the room closing in around her.

“Si. Defensive.” He leaned a little closer to her and his voice turned calm and soothing. Preparing her for the worst, she thought.

“He must have raised his arm to check the wound. The next blow was lower. It struck between the fourth and fifth rib. His assailant was then disturbed by a couple walking home from the cinema. She screamed, and her cries raised the polizia. The man was apprehended and Mr Robinson was tended to until the ambulanza arrived. He lost a good deal of blood.”

“Is he _– alright_?” Phryne asked, her voice tiny in the large office.

“He will live,” the doctor informed her. “The wound was deep but did not strike the bone. Nor did it penetrate any vital organs.”

Phryne released a breath, he shoulders slumping in relief.

“Can I see him?” she asked softly, with a gentle smile at the doctor.

He smiled warmly back. “Are you a relative?” he asked. “A sister perhaps?” His eyes twinkled hopefully.

She shook her head, “No.”

He looked a little disappointed. “A wife then,” he remarked resignedly.

“Not that either,” she replied.

Doctor Bandini straightened up again. “No?”

Phryne struggled to find the words. How did you tell someone that in a blinding moment where it occurred to you, that you may have lost someone forever, you realised you loved them beyond reason, that you should have told them that you wanted them with every nerve and atom in your body. That you should never have let them go into danger alone. That you would never let them go again.

“I’m his… _partner,”_ she managed at last. “And he is mine.”

“Ah.”

“I know I’m not his next of kin, but I’m the nearest thing he’s got here in Rome. Please will you allow me to see him, stay with him if possible.”

Doctor Bandini studied the woman before him. Clearly beautiful, clearly strong, and yet she was so concerned for this man.

“I will explain to the nurses that you are to be left alone with Mr Robinson. He’s heavily sedated so it may be a long wait for him to come around.”

She smiled at him. “I don’t mind. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” _I’ll wait forever._

The doctor stood and ushered her from the office, steering her along corridors until they reached the doorway to a quiet wing. He spoke to one of the nurses who nodded and scurried off.

“I’ve asked them to fetch some tea and biscuits for you. And to find a pillow and blanket so you can rest. I cannot guarantee the comfort of the easy chair though.”

“I doubt I’ll do much sleeping,” she answered, “but I thank you for your help.”

Doctor Bandini opened the door and followed her inside. The room smelt almost impossibly sterile and the figure in the bed looked somehow smaller and more frail than she’d expected.

A large bandage was wrapped around his right arm and his chest and ribcage were bound. He was sleeping, the deep sleep that only a good deal of sedatives could induce.

Phryne walked to his bedside and reached out to touch his hair, brushing it gently from his forehead before bending to whisper in his ear.

“I warned you to be careful tonight. You never listen to me.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

When she straightened up, Doctor Bandini was gone. She needed to truly thank that man at some point.

She sat in the armchair beside Jack’s bed and took his hand in hers.

“I’m here Jack and I’m not leaving until you’re beside me.”

“Beside you now,” a groggy voice said.

“Oh Jack,” Phryne breathed, standing over him, her mouth brushing his.

“Should almost die more often,” he managed hoarsely.

“Don’t joke,” she whispered.

His hand tightened on hers. “Hurts like the devil.”

“I’ll ask the nurse to get you something,” she said, her hand stroking softly through his hair.

“Don’t want to sleep. Not with you so close,” he said.

She laughed, and pressed her mouth to his in a long slow kiss. Her tongue traced his lips and he parted them on a sigh, their kiss deepening.

He raised his arm to pull her nearer then winced.

Phryne pulled back at once. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“I don’t mind,” he answered with a crooked smile.

“You’ll get your strength back soon enough,” she grinned.

“I can feel it returning as we speak,” he continued with a wicked smile.

She kissed his cheek. “Go to sleep. Rest will help speed up your recovery.”

At that moment, a nurse entered with a tea tray and some sandwiches and cakes. Phryne poured tea and by the time she was done, Jack was fast asleep once more. She ate in silence and watched him for a long time.  She watched him until night began to ebb away and weak daylight stirred the curtains.

Only then, did she pull the chair close to his bed and rest her head next to his arm.

And let herself sleep.

**3 weeks later**

Phryne Fisher stretched languidly and rolled onto her side to watch the sleeping figure next to her.

She smiled. Home at last and at long last in her bed.

Jack stirred sleepily and opened his eyes. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Not long enough,” she replied, leaning over to press a soft, swift kiss to his lips.

“A man could get used to waking up like this,” he smiled, stretched and winced.

“That wound’s still bothering you,” she noted, stroking a hand through his hair, devoutly avoiding his torso, as much as she longed to stroke and taste every glorious inch of him.

He’d been released from hospital only the night before, with strict orders not to do anything too- strenuous for a few more days at least.

Doctor Bandini had given Phryne a very meaningful look as he’d imparted that order and Phryne had huffed at him.

“It’s not _me_ you need to worry about,” she’d told him, as Jack’s hand strayed momentarily to her behind.

Indeed, Jack had made an attempt at consummation as soon as she had him through the doors of the pensione she had secured for their indefinite stay in Rome. However, pain had soon overcome pleasure and with a huff of utter frustration he’d pushed away from her. Phryne had persuaded him into pyjamas and tucked him up in bed. A few telephone calls to their friends in Melbourne and Phryne had crawled exhausted into bed next Jack, falling asleep pressed to his side almost at once.

Jack pushed a hand through her hair and drew her back into the present with a searing kiss. Her mouth opened, welcoming the press and swirl of his tongue as his hand stroked down her neck, traced over her collarbone and continued lower to cup and squeeze her breast, through her sheer nightgown.

“Want you,” he all but snarled against her throat.

“Soon,” she whispered, her body suffused with desire.

“Now,” Jack breathed, his hands roaming lower and bunching up her nightgown in his fists, dragging the garment slowly up her thighs. She let out a moan as his long fingers brushed against the wiry hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Stop,” she panted. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I really don’t mind,” he answered. “Some things are worth a little pain.”

She pulled back a little.

“There are rules. Doctor Bandini said,”-

“Phryne Fisher, as you well know, rules are made to be broken and I don’t give a damn what Doctor Bandini said.”

Jack pushed her gently onto her back and rose over her, his lips hard against hers. Phryne shifted her hips against him and felt his arousal against her thigh.

“Jack, she moaned, “please.”

“Oww! Damn it!” He stopped and fell back against the sheets. “I may have overestimated my own strength,” he hissed.

“We have time, Jack. We’ve waited this long. A few more days won’t kill us.”

“Speak for yourself,” he answered with a scowl.

Phryne sighed, taking pity on his plight and reached beneath the covers, pushing down his pyjama bottoms, and beginning to stroke his hard length. Jack’s eyes squeezed closed.

“Want to be inside you,” he breathed.

Phryne threw back the covers and raised the nightgown above her head, casting it aside. Jack’s eyes darkened with desire as she gingerly straddled him, guiding him inside her and bracing herself against his shoulders, avoiding the bandage over his ribs.

“We’re going to take this slowly, alright?” Phryne said. “And if I hurt you, we stop. Agreed?”

Jack nodded and Phryne undulated her hips atop him. He groaned and reached for her hips, pulling her tightly against his groin.

“Phryne,” he grunted. She stilled

“Am I hurting you? Should I stop?’ She made to raise herself from him but he gripped her hips tightly and shook his head at her.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned. “Whatever you do, please don’t stop.”

She laughed and moved once more.

“I love that sound,” Jack said with a wry chuckle of his own.

He thrust upwards, his eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through him.

Phryne cried out as an orgasm pulsed through her then she paused and ran her hands over his shoulders, cupped his face and lowered her mouth to his, kissing him languidly. She moaned into his mouth as he began to move inside her once more.

“I love _that_ sound too,” he said.

She was breathing hard, another climax building fast and her skin was sweat slicked and almost glowing in the morning light.

Jack’s stamina was beginning to falter; his body unready for such exertions. Instinctively Phryne sensed his growing discomfort and began to focus solely on his pleasure, his release.

“Let go,” she cooed, “I want to feel you come undone.”

Jack gripped her waist, her voice almost as arousing as her movements, and let go, his hips stuttering against hers as he spent himself.

Phryne paused and breathed in tandem with him as they recovered, then she levered off him and stretched out beside him with a satisfied hum.

“Are you alright, Jack?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Are you?”

She smiled at him and curled into his arms. “As first times go, I’d say that was pretty successful. Particularly as you’re not a hundred per cent yet.”

“I don’t think I could have waited any longer,” he confessed, then studied her more quizzically. “First times? Meaning _other_ times?”

“Oh you can count on that,” she answered. “But right now, you need to get some rest.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled sleepily. “Glad you’re here. Glad you’re staying.”

“Jack Robinson, you must know by now, that I’m utterly, completely and irrevocably in love with you.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Good.”

He closed his eyes and she watched as he drifted into peaceful, sated slumber.

She smiled happily and kissed his jaw, snuggling closer to him and pulling sheets up to cover their cooling skins.

Church bells began to ring in the piazza and the sun shone warm and bright through the curtains.

Phryne let her eyes close and her mind wander. For once she felt utterly present and utterly happy. She felt Jack’s chest rise and fall and, with a sense of complete belonging, she slept.


End file.
